


No Curse Unmixed

by Charnia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Slash, kmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charnia/pseuds/Charnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon Tabris left his home in the Alienage under tragic circumstances and is now risking his life fighting the Blight.  But though he is in constant danger, for the first time he has the freedom to ask who he really is, and what Zevran could mean to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Curse Unmixed

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted at the now-defunct Dragon Age Kink Meme in response to this prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/1636.html?thread=1578596#t1578596

Damon tried to focus his attention on his work, fletching a batch of arrows for Leliana, but inwardly he was urgently wishing he'd never brought that man with them. Zevran was again wandering camp in nothing more than his smallclothes, saying he had mislaid his boots, although Damon couldn't see why he couldn't put on his pants to go looking for them.

"Have you seen my boots?" Zevran asked, stopping next to him. Damon practically cringed, looking down at his hands, but finally looked up at Zevran. Somehow he had a golden tan even on skin that his clothing would normally be covering. As Damon's eyes followed the sinuous tattoos running up Zevran's thighs he wondered if he was just as tanned under his smallclothes. For all Damon knew, he routinely wandered the streets of Antiva City nude to get that tan.

He hurriedly yanked his gaze up to Zevran's face and said, "No haven't seen them." Zevran was giving him an amused look, and Damon felt himself blush all the way down his neck. He looked back down at the arrow he held and noticed his hands were shaking.

"Perhaps your dog ran off with them. It would not be the first time," Zevran said, but he sounded amused rather than angry.

Damon mumbled an apology, still looking down, and sagged with relief when Zevran walked away. He sat idle for several minutes, wondering what was wrong with him. He remembered surprising his parents as a very young child when there was a wedding in the Alienage and he'd announced to them that he wanted to marry a boy. His father had been upset and told him, "Boys only marry girls!" Late that night he heard his parents talking when they thought he was asleep, and his mother had raised her voice and said, "Well, it wouldn't be the end of the world, you remember Ambrose and Odell? As long as he's happy . . ." Later, when he found himself watching boys while the other boys were watching girls, he wanted to talk to her and ask her what she meant. But he waited, waited too long, and then the humans killed her.

So he'd resigned himself to the pattern of Alienage life. He taught himself not to look at the other boys, not to think about them, and told himself he must do his duty and marry and raise a family for the good of his people. Then his wedding day had come, and hours later he had human blood on his hands and had to leave the Alienage with the Grey Warden. Ever since then his world had been turned upside down. He could never return to the Alienage. That way of life was gone forever, and he had to come up with a new life run by new rules. He was the unofficial leader of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, humans looked up to him—and the strange elven assassin kept flirting with him. For the first time in years Damon found himself wondering if it might be all right, to be with a man?

Damon shook himself and picked up another arrow. He was beginning to toy with the idea of being with someone, but not the assassin. He was too confident, too experienced. Though Zevran had become a friend of a sort, he couldn't see him reacting to Damon's attraction towards him with anything but amusement. After all, Zevran had flirted with everyone in the party, to him it must just be a game.

Damon might have told himself it was impossible to be with Zevran, but his body was unwilling to believe it. That night he had a dream that he was lying on the ground naked under the stars, with Zevran's naked body over him. He had never so much as kissed another person, and apparently his sleeping mind couldn't imagine how a man might touch him, because he remembered very little besides the sensation of floating on surging waves of pleasure. He'd awakened to find his erection softening and a sticky mess on his stomach. Sighing, he'd found a cloth, cleaned himself up and gone back to sleep, half hoping for another such dream.

The next morning Zevran came by as he was taking down his tent and helped collapse it and pack it up properly. "Did you sleep well, Grey Warden?" he asked.

Damon started to blush guiltily and said, "Yes, did you?"

"For the most part. I woke at one point—I thought I heard someone call my name," he said with a grin. Damon felt the blush spreading rapidly—did he cry out in his dream? Damon was grateful that Zevran didn't linger to torment him further, going to pack up his belongings.

They made good time on the road to Denerim that day, and camped early. Alistair and Damon took the opportunity to spar, while Zevran watched. Perhaps inspired by the audience, Damon fought as if guided by the Maker, keeping Alistair constantly on the defensive. Finally Alistair sheathed his sword, taking his helmet off and running his hand through sweaty hair. "Enough. I yield, Ser, you have bested me!" He gave a mock bow, which Damon returned with a smile. "Now I'm going to go get cleaned up," he said, and walked away with a final nod.

Zevran stood and approached Damon, and he was reminded of a mountain lion they'd seen stalking a deer in the hills east of Lothering. "Very well done. Shall we spar?" Zevran asked. Damon reluctantly agreed.

At first it was just bladefighting, but Zevran seemed intent on disarming him. His first few attempts failed, but finally he caught Damon's wrist and twisted in just the right direction and his off-hand dagger dropped to the ground. Zevran kicked it out of reach behind him and lunged, forcing Damon to dodge. Zevran was still fresh while Damon was worn out from sparring with Alistair, and also growing rather flustered. It was not much later before Damon's second dagger hit the ground. Zevran sheathed his dagger and asked, "Well then, hand to hand?"

Damon didn't know how to back out of it gracefully, so nodded assent. They traded jabs, and then Zevran moved in close and tried to trip him up. He just barely managed to stay on his feet and broke away. The next time he succeeded in tripping Zevran, who rolled and was back on his feet in a split-second. "For shame, Grey Warden," he said. "You should not let such opportunities get away. You should have pinned me." A few minutes later Zevran succeeded in tripping Damon up. He landed on his back on the ground and Zevran fell on top of him, pinning him. Damon was at first too shocked to struggle, feeling Zevran's body pressed against him.

Zevran gave him a slow smile and said, "That was a count of three, Grey Warden, I win. Now while I have your attention . . . I believe I've received certain signals from you." Zevran moved his leg, brushing his thigh across Damon's groin, and he was horrified to feel himself hardening. "Am I mistaken?"

"I don't know! Let me up!" Damon said, panicked. Zevran looked disappointed, but rolled off of him. Damon jumped up, gathered his daggers, and headed to the stream. He passed Alistair on the way, and he looked startled at Damon's hurry but didn't stop him. Reaching the stream bank, Damon stripped and jumped into a pool at a bend in the stream.

It was a warm spring day, but the waters were still frigid from snowmelt. The shocking cold drove the breath from him, and he staggered to the shore, where he quickly finished washing. At least the plunge had solved one problem–his erection was gone. Indeed, it felt like his balls were trying to draw themselves back up into his body. Shivering, Damon dressed, wishing he had a towel, and sat on a large, flat boulder by the stream. It still held the welcome warmth of the afternoon sun, and Damon began to relax.

His reprieve was all too brief. "I see you forgot your towel," he heard Zevran say, and whipped around. The other elf stood watching him with a smile, holding his towel and a bar of soap.

"Oh, I'll just leave. . ." Damon said, standing.

"You Fereldans with your notions of modesty! No, don't let me disturb you," he said, watching Damon steadily. Against his better judgment, Damon slowly sat back down. Smiling, Zevran went down to the stream and began to undress. Damon meant to look away, but he kept watching as Zevran pulled off his shirt, admiring the tattoos that swirled down his back. Then Zevran pulled down his pants and Damon looked up at the trees–yes, the Antivan was tanned all over. Trying not to look, he leaned back on his palms and watched the clouds, listening to Zevran splashing in the stream, muttering in Antivan what Damon assumed were curses at the water temperature. Finally the splashing stopped and soon Zevran sat down next to him–fully dressed, thank the Maker–and Damon turned to look at him. Zevran was watching him with a strange soft expression on his face, and Damon felt the absurd impulse to trace the tattoo on his face with his fingertips. Looking away hastily, he straightened up and laced his fingers together.

"So, you don't know, Grey Warden?" Zevran asked finally.

Damon remembered Zevran's final question to him and blushed, feeling dizzy with nerves. He should have gone back to camp. He shook his head.

"Excuse me if this is too personal, but you have never been with anyone?"

Damon was feeling so rattled that it took him a moment to understand the euphemism. He shook his head again, looking down at the sunlight sparkling off the stream. "In the Alienage we're supposed to wait until we're married."

"And you left the Alienage right after your wedding was to have taken place," Zevran said softly, having heard that much of the story.

Damon nodded and said impulsively, "But I did not want to be married." Realizing this had come out wrong, he hastily said, "Not that I mean I'm grateful for what happened." He shook his head, wondering again if his family was safe.

"Yes, I think I understand. I am sorry they look upon things that way in the Alienage. A person cannot simply change who he is, or bury it, hard as he might try."

Surprised, Damon turned to Zevran. Somehow Zevran had heard things that he had not said. Was he that transparent?

Slowly, Zevran raised his hand and put fingertips still cold from the stream water on his cheek. Damon froze in shock. He suddenly knew Zevran meant to kiss him, and he was going to let it happen— _wanted_ it to happen. Zevran leaned forward and Damon didn't move as their lips touched. It was a simple kiss, cool lips against his, but Damon felt his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out and caught Zevran's shoulder, keeping him from backing away. He found himself wanting more than that slight contact. Impulsively, he gently sucked on Zevran's lower lip and felt Zevran's lips curve into a smile. Zevran flicked his lips with his tongue tip, and Damon hesitantly opened his mouth and brushed Zevran's tongue with his. It was the first time he'd felt someone else's tongue against his, strangely soft yet rough.

For a few minutes they kissed gently and tentatively, Zevran allowing Damon to take the lead, until Damon worked up the nerve to slide his tongue into Zevran's mouth. For a moment he cautiously explored Zevran's mouth, hoping he wasn't doing things wrong. Then Zevran took over, his tongue playing against Damon's before plunging into Damon's mouth. As the kiss became more intense Zevran leaned closer, and Damon began regretting his bravery. Seeming to sense things were moving too fast for Damon, Zevran pulled away, caressing Damon's cheek with his thumb.

"I'm going to go back to camp. Come to my tent after your watch, if you like. And try not to worry so much, dear Warden. Think of it as shared pleasure between friends." With a final feather-light kiss, Zevran stood and walked back to camp. Damon sat by the stream alone, intimidated but aroused, and hardly knowing what to do about Zevran's offer.

 

Damon had first watch that night, which was a mercy because otherwise he would have been awake half the night worrying. The watch seemed twice as long as usual, since he agonized the whole time over whether to go to Zevran's tent or not. An entire horde of darkspawn could have stampeded the camp and he would not have known until they were overrun. He vacillated between almost nauseating nervousness and excitement. As he walked the perimeter of the camp in the dark he kept asking himself what did Zevran want? What did he want? He wasn't used to the idea of people who were simply friends having sex, but as he saw more of the outside world it was beginning to seem less strange to him than the Alienage practice of binding oneself to a stranger for life. Yet did he really think of Zevran simply as a friend? He'd had many friends, yet he'd never felt the way towards them that he felt towards Zevran as they kissed.

By the time his watch was over he still hadn't made up his mind what to do. He wakened Leliana, who groaned when he told her it was her watch, but dragged herself out of her tent bleary-eyed a few minutes later. Damon started towards his tent, still unsure what he meant to do until he found his path veering towards Zevran's tent. Once outside, he stood for a long moment trying to gather his scattered thoughts, until he heard Zevran's voice inside the tent. "Come in, Gray Warden," he said in an amused tone. "Unless you mean to stand there all night."

Cursing himself, Damon almost fled, but reached out and opened the tent flap, bending to step inside. He still had uncertainties, but he'd denied himself for the past decade and more, and for once he would do what he truly desired.

The light inside was very dim, cast by a hooded lantern hanging from the tent pole. Zevran was lying on his bedroll, wearing only his smallclothes, his tattoos dark against skin that looked pale in the dim light. Damon knelt on the ground, and Zevran sat up and moved over to kneel in front of him. Once again they kissed, and Damon reached up hesitantly to trace the tattoo on his cheek. Zevran smiled at him and Damon said, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Let's see where things take us," Zevran said, and kissed him again. The kiss was soon as intense as when they'd sat by the stream, and Damon was enjoying the strange sensation of Zevran's tongue in his mouth, stroking the roof of his mouth, when Zevran suddenly pulled away. He almost moaned in disappointment, but then Zevran was kissing his jaw and neck. When he instinctively bared his neck Zevran made an approving noise.

Zevran kissed his way up Damon's neck to take his earlobe in his mouth, tonguing it and sucking gently. Then Zevran traced the curve of his ear with his tongue and Damon did moan. He felt goosebumps rise all down his side, and as Zevran licked up his ear to the tip he felt himself harden. Craning his neck, Zevran nibbled back down his sensitive ear. With a shudder of pleasure, Damon grabbed Zevran and pulled him down to lie on the bedroll beside him. Rolling on his side, he took Zevran's hip and pulled him close.

He could feel the lines of Zevran's erection through his clothes, and as Zevran kissed his other ear rocked his hips subtly to rub against him, needing the contact but somehow nervous about it too. Zevran didn't have the same reservations, and thrust his hips against him, rubbing their erections together through his clothes. Damon gasped and pulled him closer. Not too many minutes ago he would have been acutely embarrassed, but now he just wished he could touch Zevran without clothing between them. He slid his hand down Zevran's hip and hooked his thumb in the waist of his smallclothes, still too nervous to ask for permission to pull them down. Zevran nibbled his earlobe and murmured in his ear, "You are wearing entirely too much, dear Warden."

Damon was surprised at how fast he was sitting, taking off his boots and then pulling his pants down. He tossed them aside with his shirt and lay down on his side next to Zevran again. He found himself overcome with another fit of shyness, and just stroked Zevran's arm. "Ahh, Damon, you're thinking too much," Zevran chided gently. "Lie back and close your eyes."

Damon obeyed, a little nervously, and Zevran moved to lie close beside him. Damon could feel him hard against his leg, and his cock strained against his smallclothes as Zevran brushed against him. Zevran kissed his neck and then began kissing his way down his chest, caressing him, gently teasing his nipples between finger and thumb. As his caresses moved lower Damon began to ache for Zevran to touch him. Zevran dipped his tongue into his navel and kissed his way to his hip bone, and then the fabric of Damon's smallclothes prevented further exploration. He caught the hem and tugged it down to rest low on Damon's hips, then traced lips down lower. He put the heel of his hand against Damon's bulge and rubbed slowly, dragging a whimper from Damon's lips.

Suddenly Damon lifted his hips and pulled his smallclothes down completely, kicking them aside before lying back down, shocked at his own daring. A moment later all thought was erased when Zevran's hand touched him, and then he almost cried out when he was suddenly enveloped in soft, wet warmth. He looked down to see Zevran sliding his mouth down Damon's shaft until he had almost swallowed his length, then backing off only to do it again. Then Zevran looked up at him and Damon felt his heart skip a beat. Throwing his head back, he closed his eyes as Zevran's mouth introduced him to a host of new sensations. He felt Zevran's hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently in his palm, then reaching further down. When Zevran touched him down there he jumped with surprise. "Zevran? What are you doing?"

At first Zevran didn't answer, releasing him with a long suck that left him groaning. "Trust me, Damon," he said, and leaned over to pick up a flask lying by the bedroll. He uncapped it deftly one-handed and poured some of the liquid inside on his fingers, then took Damon in his mouth again. A moment later Damon felt his finger, now slick, pressing against his opening again, circling. It seemed so strange that he almost objected, but everything else felt so good–and as he relaxed Damon realized being touched there also felt good, as odd as it might seem.

Then Zevran started doing something new with his mouth, and he lost all reservations. Zevran's finger slid into him and Damon felt the strange sensation of his muscles tightening around it. Zevran moved his finger and sent an electrifying jolt of pleasure through him. He gasped and raised his hips, then pushed back down against Zevran's finger as he hit that spot again. His whole body thrummed with pleasure. He knew he was going to come soon if Zevran kept this up, and he hadn't even touched Zevran yet. "Stop, Zevran!" he gasped.

Zevran immediately sat up, sliding his finger out of Damon's body. Damon groaned at the sudden cessation of the caresses. Watching him with concern, Zevran asked, "Was that too much?"

"Not enough! But what about you?"

Zevran smiled. "Do not worry about me, dear Warden. I am enjoying myself."

But Damon thought Zevran was hardly enjoying himself as much as Damon was. He sat up and leaned forward to kiss Zevran. Putting his hands on Zevran's hips, he hooked the hem of his smallclothes and started to pull them down. With an amused murmur Zevran raised himself on his knees, and Damon pulled his smallclothes down and guided him to lie on his back. Zevran watched him, letting him take the lead.

Since he entered the tent Damon had been too busy touching and being touched to really look at Zevran, and now he saw him for the first time through a lover's eyes. Zevran's body was beautiful, lean and muscular. His tattoos artfully swept along the lines of his muscles, though marred in several places by scars. But these scars could not detract from him in Damon's eyes, because he knew Zevran had earned many of them fighting by his side. Impulsively he bent and kissed a scar on Zevran's rib cage, a memento of a fight in the Tower against a band of possessed Templars, frenzied by the whispers of the demons controlling them.

When he straightened back up Zevran was looking at him with an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression, and Damon realized even in a moment as intimate as this Zevran remained guarded. He remembered too Zevran's nightmare in the Tower. Zevran had good reason to be wary, and Damon resolved to do his best to convince Zevran to let down his guard for him. He would start by making love to him the best he could, hoping Zevran would forgive his inexperience.

Damon picked up the flask of oil and oiled his fingers, and Zevran watched him with a growing smile. When he lowered his hand Zevran spread his legs, and Damon easily found his opening. He tried to mimic the way Zevran had touched him, circling his finger around the opening, then stroking over it. Zevran pressed against him and his finger slid inside. He could feel the tight ring of muscle seizing his finger, and then velvety softness.

"Now how do you do that?" he asked softly.

"A little deeper and more forward–ahh!" Zevran threw back his head, eyes closed. His cock was hard, the foreskin drawn back, and Damon saw a bead of fluid forming at the tip. He bent and licked it off, the taste salty but not unpleasant, and Zevran let out a surprised, incoherent noise.

"Gray Warden, you're a fast learner," he gasped.

Damon smiled. "I have a good teacher. So tell me what to do next," he said, and took Zevran in his mouth for the first time. He'd thought Zevran was already hard, but his head swelled further in Damon's mouth.

For a few minutes Zevran didn't speak, but Damon followed the cues he gave him through small movements and sounds of pleasure. Then he said, "Damon, another finger?"

Damon obligingly slipped a second finger into his body. He could feel Zevran's muscles loosening, and gently slid his fingers in and out. Zevran gave a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan and said, "Improvising, I see!" Damon didn't respond, his mouth too busy trying to replicate what Zevran had been doing to him not long ago.

A few minutes later Zevran half sat up, causing Damon to sit up and look at him inquiringly. Zevran picked up the flask of oil and poured some on his hand, then seized Damon's cock and stroked it, coating it with the slick oil as Damon closed his eyes in bliss. "Now, Gray Warden, you're going to do what you've been doing so well with your fingers, but with that." He gave Damon's cock a tug.

Damon blinked in surprise. "It will fit?" he blurted, then felt like kicking himself for his stupidity. The elves in the Alienage were close-mouthed about sex, but he knew from obscene figures of speech he'd heard some humans use that people did such things. Yet it hardly seemed possible, as tight as Zevran had been around his fingers. As he imagined that tightness wrapped around him, he felt himself harden further.

"Most assuredly. Just go slowly," Zevran said, kindly not laughing at Damon's naivete.

Nervously, Damon followed his coaching as Zevran had him move between his legs. Zevran lifted his hips and Damon placed himself at his opening, then slowly entered Zevran. His worry was partially assuaged by Zevran's moan of pleasure, and then as he slipped inside he forgot the rest, overwhelmed by the feeling of tightness and warmth. He forced himself to move slowly, until he was fully sheathed in Zevran's body. "Maker!" Damon gasped. He steadied himself and asked, "Now what do I do?"

Pulling him down, Zevran nipped his chin. "Now you move, however feels right."

So Damon moved, first just slightly, still afraid to hurt Zevran, then with more confidence. He stifled a moan when he first slid mostly out of Zevran's body, then fully buried his cock in him. As the pace picked up his breath grew ragged, and Zevran started moving against him, complementing him. Zevran reached down his hand and started stroking his cock, and Damon added his hand on top of Zevran's, until he had to grab Zevran's hips with both hands as he fucked him faster, near the brink of orgasm. As he came he bit Zevran's shoulder to muffle a groan of pleasure.

He kept thrusting, knowing Zevran had still not come, fearing he would go soft too fast. He leaned back to look at Zevran–face flushed with pleasure, eyes closed–and the motion changed the angle of his thrusts enough to strike that spot directly. Zevran threw back his head with a cry, writhing against Damon before stiffening, his seed splattering his chest. For a moment his face was wholly relaxed and peaceful, then he opened his eyes and pulled Damon into a kiss. Damon never thought to object as he pressed against Zevran's body, Zevran's seed smearing Damon's chest.

Finally Zevran released him and he reluctantly slid his softening cock from him and lay down beside him. Looking at his chest he said, "I think I need another bath."

Zevran laughed and said, "Unfortunately Fereldan springtime makes bathing an unpleasant experience. In Antiva a shared bath often leads into a second round." He picked up a folded towel and cleaned off first Damon, then himself. Lying back down, he said in a serious tone, "I want to make this clear. Whatever happens now is entirely up to you. I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found. I will ask no more of you than you are willing to give."

Damon nodded, hardly knowing himself what he wanted, but now worrying that it was more than Zevran could accept—but he would not borrow tomorrow's troubles, he told himself firmly. Silently, he dressed and shyly kissed Zevran one more time before leaving the tent, almost tripping over the mabari stretched on the ground outside. Fortunately Leliana didn't spot him as he moved the short distance to his tent. Maker, what if she'd heard them? Blushing, he ducked into his tent and tied the tent flaps closed behind him. Once more he stripped down and crawled into his bedroll. He thought he would be unable to sleep, trying to sort out how he felt about what had happened, but he was exhausted and still sated, and soon was lost in sleep.


End file.
